


the failure

by antpelts



Series: losers, geeks, whoever [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Slow Burn, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:06:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24311008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antpelts/pseuds/antpelts
Summary: Things went back to normal. Or, rather, Michael pretended things were normal. Well, maybe just ‘okay’ was more accurate. They didn’t do many ‘normal’ things but he just kept his mouth shut most of the time. It wasn’t like he thought he was undeserving of effort - of almost overbearing apologies - Jeremy just seemed off in a way that made him uncomfortable. Even if he knew he deserved better, the far off look in Jeremy’s eyes was kind of scary.So he kept his mouth shut.// part one of a three part boyf riends series
Relationships: Eventually - Relationship, Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell, Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell (One Sided)
Series: losers, geeks, whoever [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755037
Comments: 7
Kudos: 64





	the failure

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for self harm, theres a few points where michael thinks about it and once where its heavily implied he does it or said but theres no gorey details no blood but this isnt fluffy and sweet. (yall gotta wait for part three for the fluff)

Things went back to normal. Or, rather, Michael pretended things were normal. Well, maybe just ‘okay’ was more accurate. They didn’t do many ‘normal’ things but he just kept his mouth shut most of the time. It wasn’t like he thought he was undeserving of effort - of almost overbearing apologies - Jeremy just seemed _off_ in a way that made him uncomfortable. Even if he knew he deserved better, the far off look in Jeremy’s eyes was kind of scary.

So he kept his mouth shut.

They hung out, sometimes. The last half of junior year was the closest to normal they got. It was almost ironic, time didn’t seem to heal either of them.

Jeremy and Christine dated for nearly four months without so much as holding hands. Considering the circumstances Michael might have just shrugged it off but it quickly became apparent to everyone that the two just weren’t feeling it, they were both after something that just wasn’t there - they couldn’t make it be there. They broke up the week before summer break started. With the free time Jeremy hung around Michael’s place pretty frequently, mostly getting high with him. Sometimes they’d play games but they didn’t tend to get very far before Jeremy seemed to get stressed and found an excuse to leave. By the time senior year started they stopped hanging out alone. By September they stopped hanging out outside of school. By October Jeremy stopped hanging out with anyone. Michael only became aware of this when Rich texted him, asking if he’d talked to Jeremy lately. He said he hadn’t and moved on, trying not to think about it.

That brought him to Halloween.

After a quick dinner Michael retired to his room, he tried to keep himself looking relaxed so his moms wouldn’t suspect anything was wrong. After he realized how much the opinions of others affected him he worked overtime on masking his emotions. He’d always been good at it but.. he got better. After _the_ Halloween he got better at it. He never wanted anyone to know how much they were able to hurt him and he didn’t want people worrying about him. The attention he’d gotten from his moms that night when he stumbled home at midnight still sobbing was suffocating. He knew he should be grateful and he _was_ but that didn’t make it any more comfortable for him. It was nice to be held and told it would be okay but it also made his skin crawl. He didn’t need anyone. He didn’t want anyone.

So for senior year he spent Halloween alone. 

It was better that way.

If he told himself enough he would believe it - right? Fake it ‘til you make it, etcetera. He had himself and that was the most important thing. His therapist had told him that he was the most important person he had and he wasn’t sure if it was comforting or not. She probably meant that he’d always be there for himself, he would always have someone. He just found it scary and a little depressing; he’d heard ‘you only have yourself, you’ll keep letting yourself down forever’. Suffice to say, he decided therapy just wasn’t for him. He hadn’t gone back. Meds didn’t seem to work either, after two months he just gave up on all of it. Getting high was enough. And listening to sad music to have a good cry.

There were other ways of coping, too. When things got too hard. But he assured himself he had it under control - he only did it when he wanted to. Besides, it was structured.. it had rules and rituals. Didn’t things with structure count as constructive? They sure sounded similar. As long as he stuck to his rules he felt in control. He only used certain things, he made sure everything was clean, he made sure everything was small and easily hidden, he made sure everything came in nice multiples. 17, for how many miserable years he’d lived thus far. 12, for how many years of friendship were tossed down the drain. 24, for the times where 12 was not enough. At any time he could add 1, for the year that settled between them like a grave, keeping them apart, a year of non friendship but something achingly close. It was never close enough.

Halloween was a 24 kind of night.

And maybe a plus one.

Afterwards he made sure everything was cleaned and covered. He had control. Wasn’t this what control looked like? Makeshift bandages and thin red lines. Structure. Control.

With a shaky breath he crossed the room on unstable legs, collapsing onto his mattress. He rolled onto his side, pulling his knees close to his chest before tugging the comforter over his body. The scene from the bathroom played over in his head plenty of times. Michael’s fingers threaded into his own hair, squeezing tight and pulling - trying to condition out the thoughts of how good Jeremy had looked in that costume, even if he thought it was kind of dumb, it was tight in all the right places. He felt so pathetic, even in his worst moment where he’d felt a more intense anger and then sadness than he ever had before he couldn’t help but be attracted to the idiot. He felt so pathetic knowing that even now he’d be attracted to him.

Physically attracted - strictly. Nothing more. Never anything more.

The last time he’d seen Jeremy was a week prior in the hall. He looked more frail than before, dark bags under his eyes, his clothes seemed to hang off him even more. There was something in his posture, in the way he walked, that just screamed fear, there was a twitchiness about him. Michael wondered what he possibly could have been afraid of. He had friends, he hadn’t dropped out, he was doing alright as far as he could tell. He ate lunch with the whole _squad._ Not that Michael could really be bitter about that, he liked to be on his own. It was a choice. He’d get occasional texts from Rich or Brooke and that was good enough for him. He didn’t need anyone.

Michael didn’t need to be the pathetic, pining, tortured, gay best friend to some straight asshole.

Choking back a sob he pushed his face further into the blankets and cried until he fell asleep. The sun had barely even set.

* * *

**November 5, 4:33 pm  
****rich (4:33 pm):** hey michael  
**rich (4:33 pm):** i know u hate when i ask  
**rich (4:34 pm):** and normally i wouldnt but  
**rich (4:34 pm):** jeremy hasnt been to school since before  
**rich (4:34 pm):** you know  
**rich (4:34 pm):** hes been gone for a week  
**rich (4:35 pm):** and i know u arent his keeper or anything but  
**rich (4:35 pm):** its weird and no one knos whats happening  
**michael (6:48 pm):** no ones seen him?

* * *

**November 14, 12:02 am  
****christine (12:02 am):** happy birthday michael!

 **November 14, 1:22 am  
****rich (12:04 am):** happyyyyyyyyy birthhhhhhhhhhh mikeyy

 **November 14, 3:53 pm  
****brooke (3:53 pm):** happy birthday michael :~)  
**michael (4:55 pm):** tell everyone i said thanks for the cupcakes  
**brooke (6:22 pm):** of course!! we love ya mikey!

It was weird, Michael had expected 18 to feel different. He supposed he’d also expected Jeremy to be around for it. He hadn’t even so much as texted. He tried to reason with himself that he was being unreasonable, no one had even seen Jeremy since the end of October. The bitter side of him supposed he’d probably just left their shitty town to get away. To get away from him. He tried to pretend that was what he wanted too. Jeremy was an asshole, he sucked. Michael didn’t need that.

* * *

_Writing writing blah blah. Journaling sucks. I hate it. But if it gets mom off my back about therapy I guess that works. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’m just tired. Real tired. Every day._

_I can’t believe I miss him still. I can’t believe I still wanted him to be there, to text me. I can’t believe! Thinking about! His dumb smile! Still makes me blush!_

_I can’t tell if I’m being unfair. He said he was sorry. We talked over the summer. It was obvious he was different. Beyond asshole different. He was, like, different different. It’s not his fault if we just changed and aren’t meant to be friends. He seemed to regret it. He seemed to want to fix it. But I can’t get why he didn’t try more. Why didn’t he try? He stopped talking to me!_

_Right?_

_I barely remember any of it. Which is scary. Senior year is scary. Maybe we just both got busy. He might have gotten a job. A girlfriend. Whatever._

_It’s stupid. Why can’t I get over it? That should have been it. I deserve better than him! Or I deserve nothing at all. Or I deserve the pain. I dunno. I just wish I wasn’t maybe in love with him of all people. Dumb. Stupid. I think I AM still maybe in love with him. Or whatever this is. What do I know about love? Stupid. That’s how it goes! Isn’t it!!! Pining gay idiot here! Never to find love! I don’t love him! How could I. We were friends. Just friends. Only friends._

_This was supposed to make me feel better._

* * *

It didn’t feel right. They were going on the third week of November and there was still no sign of Jeremy. Michael longed to take back every time he’d wished Jeremy would just leave for good if he was going to abandon him. At the end of the day he couldn’t help but miss him. If he were less realistic he might have waxed poetic about how their souls must have been connected in some way. This was real life, Jeremy obviously stopped giving a shit. Now it was his turn. He’d get there eventually. 

* * *

**November 16, 4:12 pm** **  
** **rich (4:12 pm):** hey man  
**rich (4:12 pm):** just wanted to check in  
**michael (4:33 pm):**??  
**rich (4:35 pm):** ughhhhhhhhhh okay so  
**rich (4:35 pm):** we all care about you dude  
**rich (4:35 pm):** i care!  
**rich (4:35 pm):** ur cool!  
**rich (4:36 pm):** and shits weird rn  
**rich (4:36 pm):** with the whole.. ya kno  
**rich (4:37 pm):** sooooooo  
**rich (4:37 pm):** i wanted to see how ur doing  
**rich (4:38 pm):** and maybe we could like hang out sometime  
**michael (4:40 pm):** oh  
**michael (4:40 pm):** thanks man  
**michael (4:40 pm):** yeah uh yeah  
**michael (4:41 pm):** we should

Maybe it was just better to forget about, accept that he and Jeremy just weren’t meant to be. Friends. Or whatever.

Here were people who seemed to care about him and Jeremy obviously didn’t. Why shouldn’t he focus on that, on people who wanted to care about him. Didn’t he deserve that much? His one real friend failed him - showed him that he didn’t matter. He had the right to be selfish! To think about himself. 

Maybe he’d take Rich up on the offer.

* * *

_More writing. Blah. Whatever!! November is almost over. It’s weird. It’s been a month since I heard from him and we weren’t on good terms anyways. He doesn’t deserve to be referred to by name. Focus on the good. Michael. Focus. Rich is actually cool. Turns out he’s just as messed up as the rest of us, his dad sucks. The lisp kinda grows on you. He really is cool. We play games. He’s honestly not half bad at AotD and it’s cool to play it with someone else. After we hung out it kinda evolved I guess. Everyone ended up coming over and it was super weird. Extra mega weird. But also kinda cool? Who knew being cool was.. cool? I was so ready to believe I’d never have anything! I can’t believe I was jealous that he tried. You don’t have to do crazy shit, I was right. Being yourself is worth it. Now I have friends. Real friends!!_

_Christine is cool too. She worries too much about him. I told her that she can’t fix him, he made his choices. She was hesitant. Almost like she knew something I didn’t. Which.. weird. She told me I was right though. She seems better now._

_Brooke took me to Pinkberry. We talked about him. About how he basically used her and I never thought I’d relate to fucking Brooke Lohst! She seems better. I hope she is._

_I have friends! I have friends AND I’m weird!! I don’t feel great but I feel okay. I think I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll be okay._

* * *

One month. Michael was one month clean of his bad habits. When he was alone he’d rub fingers over his thighs, his arms. If he focused he could feel the thin raised lines. He tried to pay less attention, it was getting easier. The first snow that stuck hit - it had snowed a few times before but now it finally built up, covering the ground. Michael supposed it was nice, winter had its perks. The holidays were always fun, especially considering his family didn’t care for any religious ties. Winter meant gifts and feeling cared about, even for a little bit. But, he couldn’t help the part of him that kept track of when Hanukkah started.

Maybe Jeremy went to live with his mom.

The other parts of winter started getting to him. With the threat of finals on the horizon he felt the familiar, cold dread creeping up. Seasonal depression was a real bitch. Maybe everyone was right - the sun did wonders. Who would believe it? Michael Mell missed spending time in the sun!

Despite the dread’s comforting grip he fought it off, he could do it. He could keep clean of it. The top left drawer in his desk taunted him and he tried to block it out. Instead he filled days with studying, with texting friends (when his social battery allowed), with chipping away at his extensive game collection. There were plenty of puzzle games, plenty of single-player adventures to complete. He didn’t need a player two to survive. He was his own person.

Michael Mell was a person! A complete person! A person with friends, with support, with a family. 

December first meant new starts. Clean starts. Meant one month closer to graduation. If his grades went well in the following semester the upcoming finals could possibly be his last high school finals. A realization washed over him and he sunk into his comforter, tugging his hood up over his head - he was starting to experience his first real endings, the moments were passing and he didn’t even realize. His last first day of high school, his last finals of high school. The last firsts were whirring past him and he was moping about Jeremy Heere. 

He was more than that.

* * *

**December 1, 7:34 pm  
****michael (7:34 pm):** we should do something  
**christine (7:37 pm):**!!!  
**brooke (7:38 pm):** michael said something in the gc!!  
**rich (7:38 pm):** our boy is all grown up!  
**michael (7:39 pm):** picture me flipping you off  
**rich (7:39 pm):** id be honored  
**jenna (7:40 pm):** what do you wanna do?  
**christine (7:40 pm):** yeah!!!!  
**chloe (7:41 pm):** hit us with it mike  
**jake (7:42 pm):** i’ll clear my schedule!  
**michael (7:43 pm):** i dont know! didnt think this far  
**michael (7:44 pm):** what do people do?  
**michael (7:45 pm):** sledding?

Michael couldn’t help but smile, sitting up and slowly pulling the hood off his head. There were things to look forward to. He was crafting a life worth living and.. no matter how sad it was he couldn’t help but celebrate. For once he was looking forward to waking up another day - and not because of some unhealthy codependency driving him to see one person every day. He was going to live for Michael. No one else. 

Instead of relapsing he rolled out of bed and shot Rich a text, booting up one of his game consoles, ready to meet Rich online for some games. Some game he’d never thought twice about before. Rich recommended it and there was no reason to not indulge. He’d seemed so excited, like no one had cared about what he liked before. Thinking about relating to Rich made his head spin. The last few months had just been a game of tennis through his brain, leaving him with some killer whiplash. He could have never imagined being where he was.

In fact, he hadn’t ever even imagined himself making it to 18 to begin with. 

Here he was, 18 and alive. Breathing, existing, moving forward.

* * *

“Woo!” Rich stuck his arms as he let out a cry from the bottom of the sledding hill. He jumped up from the cracking plastic sled he’d ridden down. Almost frantically Rich waved up at Michael and that was all it took. With a running start he clutched onto his own sled, jumping and dropping onto it as he shot down the hill. He spun a few times before he ended up colliding with Rich. They broke into laughter, untangling their limbs. 

When they looked up they were met with the sight of Jake following suit - hurtling towards them on an inflatable sled. With fearful cries the boys scrambled to the side, barely missing another collision.

Christine slid into Michael’s peripheral, squealing with laughter. She was closely followed by Jenna who’s sled collided with hers, sending both of them into the snow with shouts. Soon Chloe and Brooke followed, crammed together on a two person sled that was absolutely made for kids.

All of it together was enough to make Michael smile until his cheeks hurt. He was happy.

“Michael!” Christine’s shriek was too late because he felt Rich’s weight clinging to his back, knocking him back onto the ground, winding him. He felt the telltale chill of snow on his neck and he wriggled until he escaped, breathless with laughter. Cold hands reached down to grab a chunk of snow to fling back in Rich’s direction - the chaos started after that.

Soon they were all damp and cold, but they had smiles on their faces.

* * *

Maybe it’d be okay. School was still weird, even with friends. On a particularly weird day he decided to take the bus, feeling too on edge to drive himself. For once he was mostly left alone - with the popular crowd’s approval he was almost more invisible than ever before, just how he liked it. Easier than ever he could just fly under the radar, unbothered, untouchable. Tugging his hood over his head and turning up his music he climbed onto the bus. Dropping onto a seat at the back of the bus he surveyed the people around him. The reality of senior year hit him as he realized he barely knew any of the people on the bus.

The sight of a red backpack made his breath catch and he forced the swelling in his chest down. It was just a stupid Jansport backpack, he couldn’t let anyone affect him like that anymore. A backpack was just a backpack. A blue sweater was just a sweater. He couldn’t freeze up any time he saw something that reminded him of him.

The bus ride felt shorter than it used to. Maybe that was a good thing. Pushing past nervous freshmen he shifted his backpack and turned his music up again. His phone analytics would tell him he listened to music too loud and he’d shrug it off. Worst case, he didn’t mind subtitles.

“Michael!” A voice cut through the rabble and the voices streaming through his headphones. He jerked his head up, barely landing a passing high-five with Jake, giving a shaky wave as they split in separate directions. The interaction left him a bit rattled in a good way. 

Michael Mell was going to survive.

And then some.

High school was nearly behind him and he was going to make it. The light was there, the end of the tunnel in sight. 

One more week - and then, one more semester.

* * *

Winter break was weird. It was somehow the busiest and most free he’d been. Between friends and family obligations he felt stretched thin which often led to him going home early. It took some reassurance that he just needed his own space but they seemed to understand. Even if none of them were particularly introverted. They’d rather Michael leave early or skip an outing or two so he could come to another. So he did. 

Some days were passed alone in his basement, sometimes getting high, sometimes not. Smoking alone always felt weird, especially ever since the time he’d seen Jeremy’s dad. Jeremy.

It was something he hadn’t thought about in a while, the play. Helping Jeremy. There had been so many implications wrapped up in that day and if he wasn’t pleasantly floaty he would have shoved the thought to the back of his head. He felt relaxed, even this couldn’t shake him. So he let his mind wander a bit, let it indulge.

Did he love Jeremy?

Even over a year later he wasn’t sure of the answer to that question.

In the year prior he wasn’t even sure. He loved Jeremy, but how? The last 13 years were muddled, a back and forth of ‘I love him, I love him not’. They were friends, they were close. What did that mean? 

There were times where he was sure it must’ve been love but watching Jeremy go through fleeting crushes and then.. Christine. It got too hard, it weighed too heavily on his chest. Besides - why couldn’t two guys just be friends? He was tired of being the pining, sad, gay best friend. But could he erase everything? Could he say he didn’t care about Jeremy?

With a groan he flopped back on his bed, though not before carefully setting his bong on the nightstand. Priorities.

It was getting to be a bit too much to bear, after a few minutes of staring at the ceiling he rolled off the bed, making his way towards the bathroom. He grabbed the towel hanging on the back of his desk chair and set it on the bathroom counter before turning on the water. He cranked it all the way to the hottest setting, fighting off a chill as he tugged off clothes. It must have been a few days since his last shower and the grime was getting to him. Usually he avoided mirrors but something kept him stuck in place. Curling his lip he noted how his hair stuck to his forehead, flat and greasy with sweat and grime. Gross.

Before he could start spiraling he tossed his glasses onto the counter and stepped into the shower, biting his tongue to keep from wincing at the heat. It did help though, nearly instantly he felt better. Layers of sweat were rinsed off his skin by the burning water. Despite his attempts at distractions he couldn’t help but let his mind wander.

Jeremy.

Jeremy.

Did he love Jeremy?

For so long he convinced himself he didn’t. He was too young to know, too inexperienced. But now he was 18, still young, still inexperienced but.. probably capable of falling in love. When he remembered the last time he saw Jeremy his chest felt tight. 

It was different.

They were different.

Running hands through wet hair he first rubbed in shampoo, slowly rinsing it out before finally grabbing the conditioner. The hot water wasn’t good for his hair but it felt too good against his skin to turn it down. With the conditioner in he focused on body wash, he focused on the small details, anything to keep him grounded. The smell of vanilla surrounded him and he couldn’t help but think about Jeremy. Their sleepovers. When he’d shower at Michael’s place. He’d smell like vanilla, Michael always thought Jeremy carried the smell better. The hint of vanilla, his hair soft, slightly damp. His breath shuddered and he swallowed thickly, sticking his head under the spray until the conditioner rinsed out.

The shower didn’t really help him feel too much better, well, it did physically. Getting all the grime off his body made him feel better. It didn’t make his head feel any better though. The thoughts wouldn’t rinse away, clinging to his skull, making his head ache. His throat felt raw, his jaw ached - how long had he been clenching it?

So maybe he loved Jeremy, what did it matter?

He admitted it, he could move on. The asshole up and disappeared, he hadn’t seen him in nearly two months. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch!

_‘Focus on the bright side, Michael. Focus.’_

* * *

**December 31, 11:14 pm  
****rich (11:14 pm):** almost there!  
**jake (11:18 pm):** new year!  
**rich (11:18 pm):** last half of senior year!  
**christine (11:20 pm):** we did it!!!!  
**chloe (11:21 pm):** we did in in 40 minutes  
**rich (11:21 pm):** 39  
**brooke (11:22 pm):** 38  
**jenna (11:22 pm):** 38  
**chloe (11:25 pm):** :/  
**michael (11:30 pm):** fuck yes  
**rich (11:30 pm):** fuck yes mikey!!

 **December 31, 11:27 pm  
****christine (11:27 pm):** are you alright?  
**michael (11:27 pm):** what  
**christine (11:28 pm):** dummy  
**christine (11:28 pm):** two months since halloween and who knows how long since weve seen him  
**christine (11:28 pm):** its okay to miss him  
**christine (11:29 pm):** we all miss him  
**michael (11:33 pm):** you wouldnt get it  
**michael (11:33 pm):** im better off without his selfish ass  
**christine (11:34 pm):** you dont mean that  
**michael (11:34 pm):** what if i do

 **December 31, 11:41 pm  
****rich (11:41 pm):** mikey  
**michael (11:41 pm):** dont even  
**rich (11:42 pm):** well fuck you too  
**rich (11:42 pm):** newsflash you have friends who care about you  
**rich (11:43 pm):** me included  
**rich (11:43 pm):** i had this weird connection with him bc the squips  
**rich (11:44 pm):** i know things about him i probably shouldnt and  
**michael (11:44 pm):** stop typing  
**michael (11:44 pm):** i dont care  
**michael (11:44 pm):** i dont want to know anything about him  
**rich (11:46 pm):** happy new year mike  
**michael (11:48 pm):** you too

All Michael wanted was to run upstairs for a glass of water but his moms cut him off, pulling him into the living room. No matter how much of a grumpy teenager he knew he was, and could be, he was grateful for the attention, for the distraction. They even let him have a glass of champagne, watching the clock on the tv countdown to midnight. Their dog bounced between them, throwing himself into Michael’s lap to try and lick his face.

Everything was okay - he needed to just focus on everything he had. Why was everyone so obsessed with Jeremy?

Wasn’t it enough for them to all be together? Couldn’t it be enough to have his friends, his family? The tightness in his chest argued otherwise so he just focused on sipping his drink and holding onto his dog - he tried to forget how he used to spend these nights with Jeremy.

* * *

_Happy new year! Another year. I survived another year. Weird. It’s been better. Everyone cooled it with the talk about him. No one has brought him up in a week now. It’s good. It feels good. I feel.. alright? Not always good but okay. I’m working on the moving on thing. Getting through acceptance._

_I can’t help but feel bad about it though. It hurts! Was he really so embarrassed of me? Was he even my friend? How did he even see me? Some loser he couldn’t get rid of. Probably. If he despised things so much, was so jealous that I didn’t try. He probably resented me. He probably resents me. Stupid!!_

_I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay._

* * *

Despite all the hype Michael wasn’t quite ready to go back to school. Two days left. Two days before he started his last semester of high school. It made his hands shake, it made his throat tight. High school sucked and he was so ready for everything college had to offer, but it wasn’t any less bittersweet. He couldn’t help but think about his first semester in that shitty school. Michael’s moms had driven both him and Jeremy to school, bright eyed with brand new backpacks. It was scary and exciting all at once.

Besides, school meant fixing his sleep schedule and it was already pushing on 3 am. He was fucked.

Groaning, he rolled over in his bed, pushing his face into his pillow. With a deep breath he forced his shoulders to relax, slowly turning so he was back on his back. The moonlight cut through the window, soft light falling across his face. He imagined it, the moon full and heavy in the sky, beautiful. Dark craters dotted across the surface, perfectly imperfect.

Letting his eyes fall shut was a mistake but he couldn’t force them back open as visions of the moon morphed into Jeremy. Craters dotted across his cheek - acne scars he worsened by trying to scrub them off his face. Skin practically glowing when he could get the redness to go down. Freckles dusted over his cheeks, celestial in nature.

When he finally willed his eyes open he felt the familiar build up of tears.

“No!” He hissed out the whisper, flinging himself out of bed, threading fingers through his hair. He tugged harshly, relishing the burn on his scalp. “I’m mad! I’m mad. I hate him. I hate him, stupid, fuck!”

Michael struggled to keep his voice a whisper, turning to start pacing with enough intensity to leave marks of carpet traffic in his wake. After one lap he gave a stomp, grateful his room was in the basement. One stomp turned into him jumping forcefully, trying to shake his thoughts loose. With a gasp he pulled his hands away from his head, flailing them around a bit to try and expel all the anger boiling inside him. Choking on his tears he stumbled over to his bed, grabbing his hoodie off the foot of it to pull it over his head. With the hood up he pulled on the strings to keep it tight against his head as his breaths heaved.

Everything was overwhelming, too much stimulation. He threw his arms down to his sides with a gasping breath, his limbs felt too heavy and too light all at once. All he wanted was to hit something, to break something, but despite his mental state, he still knew that wasn’t a good idea.

Before he could come up with any alternatives he heard a knock. Hesitant, stuttering. A hand on glass. His window. Well, window well. Rich usually texted before coming over and a glance at his phone showed nothing. Only one other person knew about the window well.

Steeling himself he slowly turned, throat tight. 

Maybe it’d be some murderer or robber. Maybe Rich forgot to text.

If only. He was never quite lucky.

Without thinking his feet started to carry him across the room, a silhouette blocking the little moonlight that had been spilling into the room. Trembling hands reached out to unlatch the lock before unsteady legs took him back a step to give some room.

A rush of cold January air flooded the room and snow dusted converse hit the floor. The thud was quieted by the carpeting at least. Hands almost as shaky as his own moved to relatch the window, Michael wondered how cold they’d feel pressed between his own hands. Shoulders were dusted with snow and Michael wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep composure if he looked up any more, but his curiosity got the better of him.

Of course, snowflakes clung to his hair. It looked a bit short, like he’d recently gotten a haircut. Despite the damp snow it was still fluffy, even if it was just a little flat. Eyes looked tired, ears and nose were red from the cold. Cheeks were still covered with scarring, with freckles. Lips still trembled, just like his hands. Eyes lifted to meet his own, one deep brown and one a dusty blue. It was all the same. He was still the same.

“Michael?” The voice was still weak, still hesitant, still had the nervous crack in it.

“Jeremy?”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments keep me going!! look out for part two soon!


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